


Uneven

by Ramasi



Category: Death Note
Genre: M/M, Wammy's Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-16
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 03:50:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramasi/pseuds/Ramasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mello and Near the day before Mello leaves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uneven

He's wandered through most of the complex before settling for a deserted part of the library (children books most of them have outgrown before even starting on them). It's in the late afternoon, five o'clock, going on six; the light would be too dim to read by now. Not that that's what he's here for anyway: he sits by the window, feet on the table before him, eating a chocolate bar, more ready in his pocket. Time might as well have stopped here years ago: there are no computers in this part of the library, not even modern furniture, just tall bookshelves, the only disjointed touch the gleaming colourful covers from recent picture books, many of them never opened.

He's avoiding Matt, because he knows that if he doesn't, his resolve that's been so strong the whole time would waver, and he'd stay to talk and laugh and play video games, settle in this comfortable familiarity and forget all about the harshness of the world outside; or he wouldn't be able to leave alone, and he and Matt would travel the world, cheat casinos and set up detectives identities under ten different names where they'd create half the cases they solve, and a self-appointed vigilant like Kira could never, never dream to catch them; and then he'd never avenge L. Matt could find him if he wanted to, he's sure of that, but he knows better.

But this one, Mello thinks when he sees the boy walk around the corner, will never know better, with his quiet, subtle insistence that drives him furious and that – he doesn't care if Matt says he's paranoid – is perfectly, deliberately calculated to.

Mello bites into his chocolate bar, forces himself to nonchalance, and frowns at the intruder; Near just stands there, looking very small next the high rows of bookcases, and looks at him curiously, twirling hair around his index finger.

Mello wants to just ignore him, he really does, but as usual, his annoyance gets the better of him:

"What are _you_ doing here?" he snarls.

Near stays still for a few more moments, as if he's carefully collecting data on Mello's demeanour before, while, and after he's spoken and is trying not to spoil the results by intervening, before he makes a few small steps towards him, and answers, in that monotonous voice of his:

"I wanted to see what you were doing."

Mello snorts, and really wishes he could just look away and pretend Near isn't here; but the quiet presence has something very overbearing.

"Fuck off," he says, his tone even more vicious than the words.

Near ignores that, and after another brief silence (Mello angrily, loudly tears open another chocolate bar), says:

"I wanted to know why you're leaving."

Mello glares at him. He's annoyed, though not really surprised, that Near guessed, but really Near _knows_ why: to find Kira, to get a head-start in the chase, to finally get out of his shadow.

"None of your business."

Another step forward.

"But it's because of me you're leaving."

At that, Mello snaps. He's on his feet before he even realises it, the chocolate carelessly discarded, and in a few movements he's right in front of Near, grabs him by the hem of his shirt and throws him against the nearest bookshelf with a loud bump, does it again –

– and leans down over him to kiss him, angrily, violently, and why not, he'll be gone tomorrow anyway.

Beneath him, Near is still, mouth wide open and passive, hands clenching to fists against his chest, desperately trying to get a hold on his tight shirt.

When he breaks the kiss, Near's breath comes in fast, ragged pants, and he looks more dishevelled than Mello has ever see him; he's about to kiss him again just for that, when Near says quietly:

"We could still be L together."

Mello's eyes widen, and he's about to slam him into the bookshelf again when he realises with a sudden jolt that Near is _serious_ , that he really thinks he can have everything he wants, just like it's never crossed his mind to grow up and throw aside his toys when he's left childhood.

"No!" he says. He lets go of the hem of the other boy's shirt and holds him against the bookcase by his shoulders instead, his thumbs resting on the hollow between neck and shoulder, pushing insistently. At least here, there is no temptation (while on the other hand it'd still be so easy to forget L, forget _Near_ , take Matt with him and drown people's fear of death in money and destroy Kira by flooding the world with crime!...), no matter how much he wants this. "I'll catch Kira. I'll be L."

Near's fingers, which have finally managed to grab a bit of fabric, clench nervously.

"I don't – "

"Don't you _dare_ ," Mello interrupts, "say you don't care that much." _But why would you?_ he thinks, furious. _You've been so sure you'll have it in the end all this time, you've never been threatened, you don't know what it's like to lose._

Near is silent, fingers still tensing and relaxing on his chest, unused to the inactivity; distracted, Mello glances down at them: he never thought something as simple as denying them anything to toy with would be enough to make Near lose a bit of his composure, and he suddenly wonders why he thought it was a good thing this is his last day here, and why he's missed all the occasions he had, and would it really matter if he stayed just a few more months and –

– no. He has to leave, and soon. But –

"After I've won," he says, his own voice oddly foreign and breathless. "Maybe."

Near, who's followed his gaze down to his hands, looks up, stares him square in the eyes.

"What if _I_ win?" he says.

"If I lose..." Mello forces himself to say these worse, to feel the familiar string of pain, _remind_ himself of it, and unconsciously pushes very hard against Near's shoulders. "It'll be because I'm dead."

He doesn't resist when Near pushes him off, and doesn't turn when he hears him walk off, uncharacteristically hasty.

Finally, he turns to look at the empty space where Near had appeared not even twenty minutes ago, and licks his lips. He can't taste Near on them anymore, except that there's not a bit of chocolate left.


End file.
